


Despair's Call

by ShinyCharlizard



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Feels, Dragon Age II Spoilers, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4394981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinyCharlizard/pseuds/ShinyCharlizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Hawke is left in the Fade, Fenris knows that he has to go after the man he loves, and sets out for Ferelden to help him return to him</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gone

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Dragon Age fanfic, and it happens to be ready for FenHawke week! It’s based during the events of DAI, and I hope to be able to finish it before schools starts again. This also is my first AO3 work, so I hope people like it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke leaves to aid the Inquisition in their quest against Corypheus, and never returns. After hearing of this, Fenris makes the decision to go after him.

**Gone**

Ari Hawke had been gone for two months now. He had left on a stormy, early-spring day, the day after Ari’s birthday celebration. Fenris hadn’t understood the importance of it--it was a celebration of another year past, which seemed utterly meaningless to the elf, like it had for the entire time he had known Ari--but Ari had gotten so excited that Fenris couldn’t do anything but indulge him. He had bought a cake from the bakery in town that made these delicious tiny cakes that Hawke loved. Fenris had also gotten Ari a lovely carving of a mabari. Bosco, Hawke’s mabari, had died a couple years after they left Kirkwall together; Fenris knew that Ari still missed him.

Ari’s birthday had been fun. He had bought a bottle of Orlesian wine from the market, which tasted wonderful. The rest of the day they spent indoors, together in each other’s embrace. Then, later in the afternoon, a raven had arrived, and everything changed. Ari had taken the letter from the bird, breaking the seal without delay. Fenris had figured that it was from Aveline or maybe Merrill, who would still send Ari letters even after all these years.

Fenris had read the letter over Ari’s shoulder, scowling at its contents. It was from Varric, who wanted Ari to go back to Ferelden to help deal with Corypheus. Fenris clenched his hands into fists. Corypheus was dead! But now Varric was telling them that he was alive and well?

“I’m coming with you,” Fenris said before Ari could tell him otherwise.

“No, you’re not,” Ari said, rising from his chair. “I’m not letting you go. Stay here. This... Inquisition and I will handle it. I’m sure that it’s just some overblown thing...after all, why would Andraste choose an elf to be Her Herald? I’ll be gone a couple weeks at most. You just stay here and keep looking pretty.” Ari wrapped his arms around the elf, kissing him with a tenderness that his kisses always had. “I’ll leave in the morning. Tonight, let’s you and I spend the rest of the day together.”

\-----------

The next morning, just as Ari had promised, he left, telling Fenris the same thing he said every time he left: “I’ll be back. I love you.”

Then, he began heading down the road into town, his staff in its sheath across his back. Fenris watched Ari walk away until he turned at the bend of the road.  Even then Fenris remained, standing in the rain and hoping that Ari would return like he promised.

When he was soaked through with rain and his hair and clothes were clinging to his body, he finally went inside the house he and Ari had made a life in after Kirkwall. For a couple years after the Mage Rebellion, Ari and he had traveled Thedas, while they tried to find a place that felt like a home. Eventually, they settled in Antiva, outside a small port city called Bastion. Their house wasn’t anything close to the estates they had lived in in Hightown, but both of them were able to live in comfort. What had remained of Kirkwall’s government, namely Aveline, had given their Champion enough money that they would never have to work again.

Once  the door was shut tight behind him, Fenris sank into a large, plush chair in the sitting room, his green eyes staring off into the distance. Ari had promised he would be back, like he’d always had. Ari would return. Still, a part of him had been terrified that Ari would never return. If Corypheus hadn’t actually died all those years ago, then he must be stronger than Ari alone, even if this Inquisitor was helping.

For two months, Fenris received no letters from Ferelden. He felt like an empty shell, like he was missing an important, vital part of him. Often, he would consider leaving for Ferelden to find Ari and the Inquisition to help, but he would remember Ari’s words: “ _I’ll be back. I love you._ ” So, he stayed in Bastion, waiting for his love to return.

There was no fanfare when the new came, no mourners or cavalry to mark the passing of the great Champion of Kirkwall. The day the letter from Varric came, it was a still, burning day in the middle of summer, and the silence had been suffocating. Then, with a squak and a ruffle of wings, a raven appeared at the large window in the kitchen.

Glancing up from his spot in Ari’s chair in the sitting room, a book in his lap and a bottle of wine in his hand, Fenris brushed strands of snowy white hair behind his ears and set the book and the bottle down before he rose to his feet, wandering towards the kitchen.

When he saw the raven, he rushed to the window, heart pounding. Maybe it was Ari! Opening the window, he let the bird in before he took the note that it bore. Chewing his bottom lip with worry, he gazed down at the seal that held shut the letter. Why hadn’t Ari written him in the two months he had been gone?

Shaking just slightly, he broke the seal and unfurled the letter, his worry only growing as he saw handwriting that wasn’t Ari’s.

The letter read:

_Broody,_

_It pains me to write this, but Hawke is gone. He’s lost to the Fade, and there is little chance of him returning. But his death was not in vain. Hawke died trying to protect Inquisitor Lavellan, giving him enough time to escape the Fade and continue his quest to defeat Corypheus. If left unchecked, Corypehus could kill every one of us._

_I wish I could have given you the news in person, but I will have to remain here at least until Corypheus is dead._

_I hope you stay safe, Fenris. Hawke may still be alive in the Fade, and if he is, then I am sure he is doing all he can do to return to you. Hawke’s strong, even for a mage. You’re all he’s got now, so you’ve also got to be strong, for him._

_I’ll let you know if there’s anymore news about Hawke._

_\--Varric_

As he finished the letter, Fenris’s eyes immediately filled with tears. Brushing at them angrily, he found that more replaced them, and a choked, strangled sob escaped his lips. Fenris rarely cried; it was an action beaten out of him at the hands of his former masters, but occasionally, there was nothing he could do to stop them. As the hot tears streamed down his cheeks, Fenris crumpled the letter in his hands, shaking with a mixture of anger and desperation.

Ari couldn’t be gone! He was too strong for that, too cunning and intelligent. Sick to his stomach with worry, he sank to the floor of the kitchen, holding his head in his hands as he cried, rocking just slightly.

 _Fucking mages_.

When the worst of his sobs subsided, that was all he could think of, that a fucking mage did this to Ari,  _his_  Ari. Feeling a burning anger rising up to him like bile, a fury that was pushing him to act, he rose to his feet. Catching sight of a half-empty wine bottle on the table, he snarled and grabbed it by its neck, throwing it to the ground. As it shattered, green glass shards dusted the floor like snow.

Gazing down at the broken glass, he saw a flash of red, and realized that a shard of glass had cut his bare foot. He hadn’t even felt it. Picking his foot up, he picked his way around the glass, his heart thundering in his chest as he thought about the  _mage_  that had stolen Ari from him. Ari was a mage, it was true, but he was  _good._  Not like whatever monster that had kept Ari in the Fade.

Not bothering to sweep up the broken glass on the floor, he went to the washroom and cleaned the blood off his foot before he stormed into the bedroom he had shared with Ari.

Fenris grabbed Ari’s favorite cloak from the armoire, pinning it around himself as he gazed outside, his green eyes filled with fury. By the time he was finished, more blood had come from the cut on his foot, and Fenris wiped it up with his thumb. Bringing his hand up, he swiped his thumb across his cheekbones, just like Ari would whenever he was in a fight. It may have been childish, but it still made him feel closer to the man he loved, who was now gone from this world. With Ari’s red favor that he usually kept tied around his wrist, Fenris tied his hair up into a loose knot, a dark, vicious fury in his eyes.

In the armoire, behind his clothing, he found his greatsword and took it out, giving it a quick cleaning before he set it in the sheath on his back, feeling the familiar weight settle there. He took a deep breath and walked to the modest foyer of their house.

Ari needed him. And while Fenris knew that he could take care of himself, he was also terrified that his headstrong tendencies may have been his downfall. Sighing softly, he took all  the money he could find from the house and left, hoping beyond hope that he was still alive.


	2. Ferelden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris arrives in Ferelden, makes a new friend, and eventually finds the Inquisition.

**Ferelden**

_Three weeks later…_

Fenris stepped off the boat from Antiva City, taking a deep breath of the brisk sea air of Denerim. Ferelden...This was the place Ari had grown up, the land he’d lived on until the Blight destroyed everything he had known. Fenris hated to admit it, but he was thankful for the Blight that had destroyed so much of Ferelden. Without it, he may never have met Ari. He may even be back in Tevinter, a slave once more. Not to forget the ramifications of what might’ve happened to Kirkwall had the Hawke family not come to Kirkwall. That city might be ashes now, or worse, all thanks to the Blight.

Fenris walked through the streets of Denerim, taking his time. Ferelden was different from Antiva, that was for sure. The sky seemed to be permanently grey and the people moreso. Had Ari really come from here? He was so cheerful and flamboyantly exuberant all the time, it was odd to think that he might have come from a place as drab as this.

After he was done exploring, Fenris found a merchant looking for a bodyguard as he traveled to the village of Redcliffe. From what he’d heard as he traveled through Denerim, the Inquisition that Ari had been going to find was rather active in that area of Ferelden. With any luck, he could find the Inquisition and then Ari.

Approaching the merchant in the Denerim market, Fenris volunteered to be his escort.

“I don’t know…” the man said, glancing at Fenris apprehensively. “You are an elf...can I trust you?”

Scowling, Fenris said, “Yes...I am seeking out the Inquisition in western Ferelden, have you heard of them…?”

The merchant brightened up and laughed. “Yes, of course I’ve heard a’ them! Me and everyone else in Ferelden. In fact, that’s who I’m gonna go see. They’ve got some sort of stronghold up in the mountains, but I don’t know where, so I was hoping to ask their camp in the forest near Redcliffe. This is fantastic, you’ll be a fine escort. That is...how good are you with that sword…?”

“Well enough to fend off bandits and animals,” Fenris answered with a shrug.

“That’s fantastic, simply fantastic. Find me here tomorrow morning, we’ll set off at dawn.”

Fenris nodded and bid the man farewell before he made his way to the nearest tavern. It was no Hanged Man, but it would do. That night, Fenris ate a good meal and slept in a soft bed, knowing that it might be a long time until he could again. Who knew what they might find on the road to Redcliffe?

\-----

The next day, at dawn, Fenris met the merchant, who told him that his name was Daven. Then, just as the sun was peeking over the walls of Denerim, the pair set out. Daven’s oxen pulled along a wagon filled with goods, while he and Fenris walked alongside it.

The first day of travel was uneventful for the most part. Daven asked a lot of questions, but Fenris mostly answered in grunts or one-word sentences. Still, Daven was happy to fill the silence with his own stories and answers.

Daven owned a rather prolific smithy, with three well-trained blacksmiths working for him. He was heading to the Inquisition to see if he could start a trade deal with them. He had three beautiful daughters, a beautiful wife, and a cottage in the countryside.

Eventually, the day passed and they began setting up camp. Daven lent Fenris a bedroll, but he didn’t own a second tent, so he would have to sleep under the stars. They shared a small meal of saltpork and bread, and Daven talked endlessly until he grew tired and retreated to his tent for the night. Fenris stayed awake for another hour, just watching the fire burn down low and listening to the sound of the wilderness around them. Ari must have loved it here. From all the stories he’d told him over the years, Ferelden was a beautiful, wild place, just like Ari.

When Fenris got tired, he poured a bit of water on the remains of the fire and set out his bedroll before he set his sword on the ground beside it and lied down. Sleep did not come easy for Fenris, and not only because Ari wasn’t there beside him. At night, the lyrium markings burned and itched worse than usual, and anything touching them caused him great pain. Usually, Ari would be there to kiss and magic the pain away or else he had some strange home remedy his grandfather’s grandfather knew, but he wasn’t there anymore.

So, for several hours, Fenris lied awake, uncomfortable and in pain, until finally exhaustion pulled him to sleep.

In the morning, Fenris awoke to the sound of Daven feeding his oxen and making sure nothing was stolen. Yawning, Fenris got up and prepared himself for another day of traveling.

\-----

Fenris and Daven traveled for a week, with Fenris fending off the occasional bandit or wolf attack. Then, on the eighth day, they came over a hill and saw the seaside town. It was, in a word, quaint, and it seemed like the sort of place Ari would love.

Daven gave his oxen a break, feeding them and giving them water before he and Fenris headed inside the tavern, where they had a meal themselves. During this, Daven asked the barkeep if he knew anything about the Inquisition’s camp, and was pointed to an area in the forest called the Crossroads, where something of a war had occurred just a couple months ago. Apparently, they had walked right past the place the Inquisition had camped in. The barkeep also spoke about a small town called Haven, which was destroyed by an avalanche not long after the war in the Hinterlands was put down. Despite all the lives lost during the war and the avalanche, Fenris was glad that Ari hadn’t left for Ferelden earlier, since he knew that Ari would have stayed in the Hinterlands to help the mages, no matter what.

After they ate, Fenris and Daven went back on the road, to the place called the Hinterlands, where they would hopefully find the Inquisition forces.

\-----

The pair walked down the path from the village silently, Daven trying to decipher the direction the barkeep had given them, Fenris admiring the forest. Everything was so green here, so much unlike the eastern part of Ferelden. In fact, it was unlike what Tevinter, the Free Marches, even Antiva had been, and Fenris wondered why Ari and he hadn’t settled down here instead. Fenris felt...at peace here.

Somewhere on the road, they must have taken a wrong turn, because, instead of coming upon the Crossroads after leaving Redcliffe farms, they arrived at a cave.

“Huh,” Daven said, looking around the entrance curiously, “maybe that fool barkeep forgot to mention this...Here, I’ve got some torches in my wagon, in a...in a brown sack!”

“They all are brown,” Fenris answered, frowning. He was certain that this wasn’t the right path, that they should turn back, but Daven seemed certain, too.

With some searching, they found the torches and Daven lit them, handing one to Fenris as he began leading the oxen inside the cave. However, the oxen wouldn’t follow, no matter how much Daven pulled or yelled.

Eventually, Daven gave up and just tied them to a tree, covering his goods with a thick cloth to hide them and leaving a note reading “Do not touch!” on it.

“Let’s just go see if the Crossroads is through here…” Daven said to Fenris, beginning to walk inside the dark cave. Fenris didn’t want to, but he followed anyways, knowing that he didn’t want to be responsible if the man fell to his death in there.

The cave was damp, dark, and dangerous, with the walls wet to the touch, the pair’s torchlight barely illuminating two steps in front of them, and with jagged rocks and holes seemingly everywhere. More than once, Fenris had to grab Daven’s collar before he stepped into a hole a step ahead to keep him from plummeting to the ground. Dotting the ground and walls were strange glowing fungi and there was a skittering sound echoing in the cave, from a source neither traveler could locate.

After what felt like hours, they turned a corner and came upon a light at the end of the cave. They both quickened their pace, eager to be out of the darkness once more. Just a few minutes later, they were outside once more, soft sunlight bathing them in warmth. Daven, grinning widely, let out a laugh, while Fenris merely sighed in content.

“We should find our bearings,” Daven said, snuffing out the flame on his torch. Fenris did the same before he began following Daven down the small mountain path they had came upon. The spot the cave had come out in was beautiful, with a large butte in the center of a small, steep valley. At the bottom was water that seemed to circle the butte, and to the west was a plain which led to what looked like another cave.

Fenris had to stop for a bit to admire the beauty of it all, wishing that he could have grown up in a place like this, instead of Tevinter. Then, just as he was going to continue, an ear-splitting roar rocked the valley, strong enough to bring Daven and Fenris to their knees. Daven shouted, ducking down as Fenris got to his feet.

He scanned the valley desperately, searching for whatever could have made such a noise. Then, he heard the beating of a pair of great wings, and looked up. Rising from its nest on the butte was a massive dragon, two or three times the monstrosity Ari and he had fought all those years ago in the bone pit outside Kirkwall.

“That’s a Frostback!” Daven shouted, pointing. Cursing, Fenris drew his sword, though he knew he couldn’t fight a dragon by himself. In the ten years since he had been in a real fight, his skills hadn’t gotten better. If anything, they had gotten worse, since he was getting older and hadn’t been practicing. Gazing up at that dragon, he cursed again and sheathed his sword.

He ran back to where Daven was and hauled him to his feet, shouting at him, “We have to go!” He began leading Daven back into the cave, but before they could get in it, the dragon shot a fireball at them and Fenris pushed Daven out of the way before he dove down the hill, turning head over heels a couple times until he came to a stop.

With the cave entrance blocked by smoldering embers and the Frostback beginning to launch another fireball at them, Fenris shouted to Daven, “There’s another cave, on the other side of the valley! Hurry!” Without looking to see if Daven was following, he sprinted towards the other cave, doing his best not to trip on the uneven ground.

However, not halfway across the plain, the dragon landed a couple feet in front of him. Fenris gazed up at the dragon, his eyes wide as it let out another ear-splitting roar. Before he could move, he heard Daven shout, and when he turned to look, he saw the merchant being set upon by smaller Frostbacks, likely the larger one’s spawn. He had a tree branch in his hand but it wasn’t doing much against the onslaught of dragonlings.

Fenris didn’t want to turn his back to the dragon, which was eyeing him darkly, but Daven would likely die without him to assist. Fenris ran towards Daven and fought off the dragonlings, but not before one of the tiny monsters bit Daven’s left leg and brought him to his knees. Fenris helped the man up, but he was limping heavily as he tried to get to the cave entrance.

Cursing, Fenris had Daven put an arm around his shoulder and he took on some of his weight, holding him up as he helped him move to the cave entrance, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. The dragon roared at them, snapping its jaws in their direction as it prepared to hurl more fire at the pair. Fenris shouted, leading Daven around the beast. Still, there was no way around it without getting eaten, and Fenris drew his sword, moving Daven so he was behind him.

He took a ready position, his green eyes staring up at the dragon. It was about to launch fire at him and the glow of its fire was reflected in the depths of the elf’s eyes. Just as it was about to burn him to a crisp, there was a shout from the cave behind it: “Hey, ugly! Look over here!”

The voice was from a man in armor carrying a sword and shield, an odd emblem on his chest plate. Upon hearing the shout, the dragon turned, sweeping its tail at the soldier. The man jumped over it and shouted at Fenris and Daven, “Run! I’ll distract it!”

Fenris nodded and supported Daven as they began making their way to the cave entrance while the soldier ran into the clearing, followed by three more soldiers, drawing the dragon’s attention. Despite Daven’s limp, they got to the cave entrance in good time, and soon the soldiers’ shouts and the dragon’s roars became mere echoes.

Inside the cave, another group of soldiers was waiting, and a couple of them took Daven from Fenris’s arms. “Who are you?” Fenris asked as they came out of the cave into a clearing where there was a camp.

“In-Inquisition!” Daven shouted, glancing back at Fenris and grinning. Fenris’s eyes rose, and he followed them eagerly, hoping that he was at least a bit closer to finding his love. Daven was soon being seen to, and Fenris was left standing awkwardly to the side. There were a couple elves wearing the Inquisition uniforms, but he still didn't’ feel like he could just make himself home there.

The soldiers that had distracted the dragon appeared, a large burly man from the group approaching Fenris. “You alright?” he asked the elf, folding his arms across his chest.

Fenris nodded, then asked, “You’re the Inquisition?”

The large man nodded, smiling a bit. “Yes, we are. You’re not from Ferelden, are you? Most everyone south of the Free Marches knows about us.”

“You are correct, I am not from here,” Fenris said. “I’m looking for someone. He came to Ferelden to aid the Inquisition, but I was told that he was lost in the Fade...I need to go to your Inquisitor and speak to him. My companion as well.”

Again, the man nodded, then said, “I’ll speak to the scoutmaster and if she thinks you’re trustworthy, she’ll come speak to you.”

“Thank you,” Fenris said, bowing his head once. He walked to the edge of the camp and sat down on a fallen tree, pulling Ari’s cloak closer around his slender shoulders. It had still smelled like Ari the first couple days of his journey, but now it only smelled of Fenris and the dust from the road. Sighing, he watched the soldiers of the Inquisition as they worked and talked amongst themselves.

Eventually, a young elven woman with a Falon’Din vallaslin approached him, her bright blue eyes gazing curiously at Fenris. “That dragon,” the young woman said, “we didn’t kill it. It just got bored of us after we all went through the cave again...the man you’re traveling with said he’s a merchant and he doesn’t know a lot about you. So why are you seeking the Inquisition?”

Fenris gazed down at her, trying to see her reason for asking. Finally, he said, “I was...close with a man who wanted to help your Inquisitor and I was told he died. I want to see his body, retrieve his belongings…” Unbidden, tears filled his eyes, and he angrily brushed them away.

The elf nodded and ran a hand through her hair. “Right,” she said. “My name is Shiriel. I’m the scoutmaster of this camp. Tomorrow, you, the merchant, and a small group of my soldiers will travel to Skyhold.”

Fenris nodded and said, “This Skyhold...it’s where I’ll find your Inquisitor?”

Shiriel gave Fenris a nod and a smile. “Yes. He’s an elf, too. We’re actually from the same clan, but he was our Keeper’s First. I was just a hunter.”

Fenris made a sound of interest, but in trust he didn’t really care. The Dalish and their clans never interested him, and he had more important things to worry about.

“Well, I’ve got duties to attend to. Supper’ll be in about an hour. My men took down an elk today, so we’ll have some good food…”

“Right,’ he said, which seemed to be enough for Shiriel, who smiled and walked away with a soft farewell of “Dareth shiral.”

With a sigh, Fenris went towards the tent that Daven was being worked on, sitting down nearby so he could tell him what their plan was for traveling to Skyhold.


End file.
